Escaping the Evil Inside
by UnattemptedFeat
Summary: It's the only way Sam can stop the agony. It's the only way he can have peace. But it's also a road he told himself he'd never walk again.
1. Coping

**Author's Note** **: Bonjour, my friends. I hope everyone has been well.**

 **I'm very sporadic with updates, I know. Not that anyone cares.**

 **I just have more motivation to watch Netflix than to write sometimes, but I will try to remedy that. I'm re-watching Supernatural, and I don't want to go to fast. Better to savor those lovely Winchesters, right? And how about that 12** **th** **season?!**

 **That finale was unacceptable.**

 **But I digress.**

 **So I know how I once said that I would never write anything too violent, sexual, or dark.**

 **Welp, I changed my mind.**

 **Everything will be properly rated and ample warnings will be given in the author's notes.**

 **So for this one:**

 **Warnings** **: Dark, violent, mature themes. Suicidal thoughts, self-harming, substance abuse. IF ANY OF THIS WOULD BOTHER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ!**

 **Set when Lucifer was tormenting Sam but he never cut his hand.**

 **Always Keep Fighting. You Are Not Alone. You Are Enough.**

 **Without further ado...**

Sam was roughly shaken awake. Instantly alert, he shot upright, grasping for the knife he had placed on the nightstand. Sam blinked the sleep out of his eyes, searching for the danger.

His gaze fell on two beady eyes glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the window. Though he lowered his knife, Sam did not relax.

Lucifer grinned maliciously at Sam's disheveled state, his teeth adding another bar of reflecting light.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Lucifer yelled, knowing full well Sam was the only one who could hear him.

Sam fell back against his pillow with a low groan, not wanting to wake Dean, who was snoring in the other bed.

"Oh, come on!" Lucifer hopped onto the bed beside Sam and reclined against the headboard. "Don't be like that! Let's have some fun! It's boring to just watch you sleep."

Sam glanced at the clock. Damn, 3:23 am. He scrubbed at his eyes, wishing that he could just rub the image of Lucifer away.

But when he looked back, Lucifer was still there, beaming at him.

"So, whadda ya say?" Lucifer nudged Sam with his elbow. "Truth or Dare?"

Sam knew it would be useless to tell Lucifer to leave him alone. The angel appeared and disappeared whenever he felt like it. Lucifer probably enjoyed tormenting Sam in person just as much as he liked knowing that Sam was always on edge waiting for him to appear.

"No?" Lucifer frowned. "Ah, I get it. You just woke up, probably want to shower or something.

That's cool. I'll just wait here." He crossed his arms and leaned his head back.

For lack of anything better to do, Sam swung out of bed. He grabbed clothes from his duffle, taking care to be quiet.

He padded softly to the small bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. Sam had a lot of experience with motel showers, and he knew that they often took several minutes to warm up to a comfortable temperature, so he turned the knob all the way onto hot and stripped.

Lucifer started to sing Old McDonald in Sam's head. The devil was purposefully missing every pitch, his voice grinding against Sam's brain.

Impatiently, Sam went to check the water's progress. All he wanted was to step under the calming jet and attempt to find some sort of relaxation. Expecting it to still be lukewarm if not chilly, Sam stuck his whole hand under the faucet.

The water was scalding. Sam yanked his hand back, stifling a cry of pain. He inspected his palm, wincing at the angry, red mark across his hand. Sam braced himself for one of Lucifer's wracking, resounding laughs to echo through his head.

But nothing happened.

Sam waited, massaging his stinging palm. Still Lucifer made no noise. The painful Old McDonald rendition had ceased. Confused, Sam opened the bathroom door as silently as he could and peeked his head out.

Lucifer had disappeared. And this was different from the times he just left to mess with him, Sam could feel it. Usually he could sense a taunting presence, but this...

Sam stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hurriedly, he fixed the water to a more comfortable setting and took a shower in peace. When he was done, he toweled off, redressed, and went back outside.

It wasn't even 4 am yet, and Dean was sure to keep sleeping for a few hours, so Sam pulled on his jacket and slipped out of the motel room. He needed some fresh air to figure out his new findings.

Sam walked about four blocks and found a bench at the town square. He sank onto it. After checking again that he couldn't sense Lucifer, Sam let himself fully absorb what had happened.

Looking down at his hand, which still stung slightly, Sam knew that he had found a solution to keep Lucifer at bay. Finally after weeks and weeks of torment, he had an out. But it wasn't one he liked.

Pain kept the devil away.

Sam didn't like that one bit. He knew that it meant injuring himself on purpose

And Sam had sworn to himself that he would never do that again. He knew that once he started hurting himself, he wouldn't be able to stop. It had been hard enough the first time.

Sam had been in one of the darkest places he'd ever known. He'd allowed himself to be corrupted by Ruby and her demon blood. He'd started the Apocalypse. The world was going to end, billions of innocent people were going to die, and it was all his fault.

The blade against his skin was his punishment. The beads of blood were an atonement.

Sam was broken. He was damaged.

And that's how he went into the Cage: covered in the scars he had hidden from everyone. Even Dean. Especially Dean.

When he was pulled from the Cage, Sam's scars were gone and so was his soul. Sam didn't remember much about being soulless, but from what he was told he was an uncaring, arrogant, killing machine.

Upon getting his soul back, his remorse from what he had done before the Cage and what he had done while soulless almost drove Sam back to his dark place.

Sam was determined never to go there again, so he threw himself back into hunting and into a bit too much alcohol at times. And he won his fight.

But then the walls that had been placed in his mind started crumbling down.

And there he was. Torn. Torn between allowing himself relief by going back down a road he had promised never to walk again and having to deal with Lucifer's constant, agonizing torment.

A sharp, malicious cackle made Sam jump.

"Sammy! Sammy!" Lucifer taunted in Sam's mind. The devil kept chanting, each word slamming against Sam's head like a hammer.

Sam made his decision. Bringing out the knife he kept stowed in his jacket pocket, Sam flipped open the blade.

Sam thanked whoever was listening that it was the middle of winter, so it wouldn't be out of place for him to wear long sleeves. Pulling up the sleeve of his jacket, Sam promised himself that this would only be a temporary fix. He would keep trying to find another way. He wouldn't go too deep, or do too many, and he had to make sure to do it where Dean wouldn't notice.

Lucifer started to scream. Tears streaming down his face, Sam raised the blade and pressed it against the skin of his forearm.

He dragged the blade across his skin, gritting his teeth as he felt blood start to trickle slowly down his arm.

When he stopped, Sam leaned back, looking up at the stars.

He felt at peace, but he knew it wouldn't last for long.


	2. Controlling

**Author's Note** **: Hola, mes amis! I hope that everyone is doing well.**

 **So here's the second chapter. The same warnings apply as the first chapter and will continue to apply throughout.**

 **I love Supernatural, believe me I do. But sometimes they will gloss over certain issues and events that would usually have a more lasting impact on a human being. I mean, yes, it's Sam and Dean Winchester. They are freaking Captain Americas in army surplus outfits, I get that. But I think you all know what I'm getting at.**

 **Always Keep Fighting. You Are Not Alone. You Are Enough.**

 **Without further ado...**

Sam pulled his sleeve back down and slid the knife back into his jacket pocket. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, scrutinizing himself in the motel bathroom mirror.

He looked...okay. Good even. The purple bags had disappeared from under his eyes because he was actually getting sleep now. His cheekbones weren't as pronounced, as a result of him gaining back the weight he had lost.

Sam chuckled darkly at the irony. On the outside he looked healthy as long as he didn't pull up his sleeves, but on the inside he was falling apart.

Two weeks had passed since he had sat on that park bench, under the winter stars, and made that cut to silence Lucifer. Since then, he had made a cut, reopened one, or found a way to otherwise injure himself everytime he so much as _sensed_ that Lucifer might have been making an appearance.

For the first time in a long time, Sam was starting to feel like himself again. He was alert on hunts, he no longer had the devil looking over his shoulder distracting him. He could ride shotgun in the Impala without Lucifer and his incessant backseat driving. He could actually hold conversations with his brother without Lucifer's running commentary.

Sam was Sam again, but at what price?

Dozens of cuts up both arms for starters, Sam thought darkly. Before he could muse any further, there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Sam, you in there?" Dean called through the door.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Just a second." He splashed water on his face, and then he went out.

Dean was sitting at the little table, chowing down on a huge, meaty burger. Sam could see the grease practically oozing out of the thing.

"Hey," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of beef, glancing up at his little brother. "You alright?"

Dean had been asking him that a lot lately. Sam knew that his brother was concerned about him, and he appreciated that. And it only made him more careful about never wearing short sleeve shirts or changing in front of Dean. Sam had hidden this from him the first time, and he was hell bent on him never finding out now.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam sat down across from his older brother, picking up the salad Dean had gotten for him. "Really, I'm good," he insisted, noticing his brother's skeptical glance.

"Okay," Dean shrugged, taking another bite of his burger. "So. You find anything out about that spirit?"

"Yeah," Sam put down his fork. "Grover Goodall was seventeen when he killed himself inside the house. His girlfriend had broken up with him the week before, and he didn't take it well. Now that was way back in the 40's, and ever since then, everytime a family with a blond, teenaged daughter has moved into the house, she...well. And he makes it look like suicide."

Dean went to take a bite of his food again, but he hesitated, glanced at the greasy meat, and sighed. He set it down and looked at it almost woefully. "We thinking a salt-and-burn then?"

"He was buried in Stonewood Cemetery," Sam replied, nodding.

"Pretty cut-and-dry then," Dean remarked.

"When is anything ever cut-and-dry, Dean?"

Thankfully, Sam was actually wrong. Salting and burning Grover Goodall's bones was the most uneventful hunt they had had in a long time. Sam wasn't thrown into any gravestones by an angry spirit or choked by any apparition. He couldn't remember the last time he had walked away from a hunt without at least one bruise or bump.

Which was a bad thing. And Sam hated that he thought it was a bad thing.

Lucifer came back in the Impala. They were headed far away from Goodall's town and driving to whatever was coming next. Dean was blaring Metallica like usual, and this time Lucifer reappeared singing along.

"Long time no see, Sammy!" Lucifer sneered loudly.

Sam was at a loss. To cause the amount of pain he knew would keep Lucifer away for at least a few hours was impossible to achieve with Dean right beside him. So Sam gritted his teeth, and he clenched his fists, and he waited. He hoped that Dean would get tired and stop at a motel soon.

But Dean drove on. It was midnight when he got off at the exit for Siler City and pulled into a Motel 28.

When they got in the room, Sam quickly shuffled into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and flicked the knife out quietly.

As he raised the blade, Lucifer piped up, "Sam, I honestly didn't think I could drive you back to this. Hurting yourself, making yourself bleed, writhing in your own agony. And all this for me!"

Sam couldn't take it. He dropped the blade with a clatter.

Is this what he had become? Tearing into himself? All for the devil?

Sam looked up into the mirror.

Lucifer was standing right over his shoulder, grinning at him.

Sam couldn't take it.

He lashed out, punching the mirror. The glass shattered under his fist.

Sam couldn't take it.


	3. Collapsing

**Author's Note** **: Bonjour, my friends! I hope that everyone has pie, an Impala, and a man in a leather jacket today!**

 **Same warnings apply.**

 **Always Keep Fighting. You Are Not Alone. You Are Enough.**

 **Without further ado...**

Dean looked worriedly after Sam as he quickly shuffled into the motel bathroom. The way his little brother had been practically twitching beside him in the passenger seat had not escaped Dean's notice.

Dean was just about to check on Sam when he heard the crash. The sound of glass shattering had the worried big brother tearing for the bathroom.

"Sam!" Dean pounded on the door frantically. "Sam, let me in or I will kick this door down!"

"Just give me a minute, Dean," Sam groaned. Dean flinched at the pain in his brother's voice.

"I don't think so, Sam," Dean took a step back. "Open this door right now!"

"Dean, please!" Sam begged. Dean took another step back.

"Get away from the door, Sam," Dean warned. As he went to bring his leg up, the door opened slightly. Just wide enough for Dean to get a glimpse of his brother. Dean charged through the door, shoving it open all the way.

Sam was standing over the sink, his right hand wrapped in a towel. A towel that was rapidly turning red. Blood flowed down Sam's arm and into the sink, contaminating its once milky white.

"Sam, what-" That's when Dean noticed the mirror. It was completely shattered, and some of its shards were littered at Sam's feet. Dean stepped forward and reached for Sam's bloodied hand, "Sam, let me see."

Sam pulled away, "Dean, it's okay. Just let me handle it."

"No, Sam! Give me your hand," Dean argued firmly. "There might be glass stuck in it."

Dean caught his brother's pleading stare, but he held fast until Sam reluctantly let Dean take his hand.

"Sammy..." Dean breathed, pulling away the towel to see the full extent of the damage. Sam's knuckles were torn to shreds, and his fingers had bits of glass imbedded in them. This injury was beyond what Dean could patch up himself. "Hospital now. Come on." Dean grabbed for three more towels and dragged his little brother behind him to the Impala.

Fifteen minutes of silent driving later, Dean was pulling Sam out of the car and leading him into the hospital. They only had to wait an hour before Sam's fake name was called.

When Dean went to follow him, Sam said, "Dean, I can do this by myself." The big brother just shook his head, placed his hand on his little brother's shoulder, and walked him back to the doctor.

Dean was right beside Sam while the doctor plucked every tiny bit of glass from his baby brother's hand. When the doctor was done with that, she stitched up Sam's cuts. Three of Sam's knuckles were fractured, and the kind doctor allowed his request for just a brace, though she did warn both of them to be cautious with his hand for the next few weeks. Before the doctor let them go she sent them home with some pretty heavy pain meds, warning Dean that Sam would be in a lot of pain for the next couple weeks. She also cautioned him to make sure Sam took the meds and to watch his little brother for fever.

Dean kept his patience for as long as he could, but when they were sitting in the Impala again, he exploded.

"Sam, what the hell was that?" Dean almost shouted. He fought to keep some control, knowing that him getting angry wasn't exactly what Sam needed right now.

"Dean, I..." Sam hung his head, his hair falling in his face. "I'm sorry. I just lost it for a second."

"That was not 'losing it'," Dean shook his head vehemently. "You are not getting out of this one, Sammy, no way. What happened?"

Sam's breath hitched, and Dean glanced over sharply, catching Sam scrubbing at his eyes, "I just couldn't take it."

Dean waited for Sam to continue.

"I couldn't take it," Sam sighed. "I saw Lucifer in the mirror, and I just..."

"I thought it was getting better," Dean said.

"It was," Sam replied, although Dean detected some sort of shade to his tone. "It was."

"Okay," Dean focused back on the road, sensing that Sam was done talking for the moment. He pulled into the parking lot of their motel. Dean stopped the car, and Sam was about to get out when Dean locked his door.

"Dean, why is my door locked?" Sam asked, tugging on the handle.

"Sammy, I need you to just listen for a second, okay?" Dean waited for his brother's slow nod before he continued, "We are going to beat this, I promise you. You and me. Together. I'm going to figure out how to get Lucifer out of your head if it's the last thing I do. But I need you to fight with me, Sammy. I need you to fight your hardest. I know it's hard, and I know that I can't understand what you're going through. But I need you to stay with me, little brother. You can't give up."

Dean watched as a million different emotions washed over his brother's hazel eyes. He choked down tears of his own, praying that Sam understood him.

"Dean..." Sam trailed off, and Dean's heart wrenched. Sam took a deep breath and tried again. "Dean, I...I'm falling apart. You're the only thing that's keeping me going right now. And I'm going to try my best to be okay for you...But I can't promise that I'm not going to break down, to punch a mirror, now and again."

"All I'm asking is that you fight this, Sammy," Dean's voice broke. He stared out the windshield, trying to keep himself under control. "Fight this, because I'm gonna get you through it. And I'm going to be right there beside you every step of the way." Dean sensed that his words were hitting Sam hard, and it gave him the uneasy feeling that there was something more here that he didn't know.

And that terrified him.


End file.
